In space, no one can hear you scream. That was the last thought of
the captain of the Open Arms as his ship exploded. For over fifty years this race of
fugitives has been on the run from the Pandonians, a brutal race seeking only destruction.
In these years the fugitives have retraced the steps of their ancestors back to the galaxy
of their origin.

Five thousand years ago the fugitives left the world of their birth
to start anew. They wanted to branch out from their cousins so that more of the universe
could benefit from their knowledge. After hundreds of years they found their new home. A
small system the middle of a new galaxy; what a perfect place to begin. They found three
planets capable of supporting life yet bare of intelligence. They named the planets
Fronfer, Lakends, and Grewsda. Translated into English they were Peace, Love, and
Understanding.

They lived in harmony with the races that populated this galaxy for
five thousand years, until a race of wandering predators entered their sphere of
influence. The boarder races fell almost instantly under the Pandonians savage might. They
shamelessly executed the populations and ravaged their worlds for the supplies they
needed.

Lan-Har, the military leader of the fugitives, gathered a armada of
all the surrounding races to go and confront the Pandonians while still weeks away from
the galaxys core. They had heard that the fleet the Pandonians had was immense, but
had no idea of its true scale. Lan-Har and the Righteousness led the armada of five
hundred ships to where the Pandonians had set up camp for the time being. The world they
had just conquered was huge, and would take some time to completely drain.

Once they were within range they sent out a standard welcoming and
"we come in peace" signal. From six hundred light years away Pandonian ships lay
in wait, but let the armada pass. All attempts to hail the ships were ignored by them. The
ships were slightly smaller than the armadas, but were much different in design. The
armada had white ships with flowing lines and graceful curves. Standard running lights and
the name of the vessel were boldly on display. The Pandonian ships were black, triangular,
and savage looking. They had large weapons on the end of each of the three forward swept
wings and resembled shrapnel.

The fear was tangible in the bridge of the Righteousness as they
passed through the defenses of the Pandonians. Lan-Har could only watch the ships close in
behind them as they got closer to the center of the fleet. In orbit around the planet was
the command ship, there could be no mistaking it. It was about seven miles across and in a
saucer shape. All around the equator of the ship were spikes that resembled the guns on
the wings of the regular ships.

Finally a hail was let out from the command ship. Lan-Har was almost
reluctant to answer the signal. He was unsure what to expect, but was confident this was
his last day among the living. The computer estimates came back, it appeared that the
ships numbered in the millions.

"Greetings, my name is Lan-Har. I represent the beings living
in this galaxy and have come to ask of your purposes here. Is there anything we can do for
you?" When the picture came back Lan-Har nearly gasped in fear. These Pandonians were
animalistic in nature. They appeared to be a cross between a panther and a wolf. They had
black and gray fur, small triangular ears on top of their heads, and long jaws filled with
razor sharp teeth. They wore armor from the neck down covered with robes and each of them
had side arms on them.

"I am Huntrrro, firrrst of this prrride. Why do you botherrr
us?"

"I apologize if we are a bother, that is not out intention. We
always welcome a new race to our galaxy and you are no different." Huntro seemed to
laugh at that.

"Welcome orrr not, we take what we want. You arrre a fool to
have come herrre. Make peace with yourrr gods furrrless one, you die today." With
that Huntro shut down the signal.

"All ships, prepare for combat!!" Lan-Har called out.
"Ignore the smaller ships and concentrate all fire on the command ship." All
hell proceeded to break loose. The armada as one went full bore towards the command ship,
all fire directed at it. One by one the Pandonian ships cut them down like they were
nothing. Of the five hundred only the Righteousness and two others made it to the command
ship. One was gunned down by the lasers on the side of the command ship, and the other
made it to the underbelly of it. It tried a kamikaze run at the center of the ship, but
missed by half a mile. The damage was too great to properly maneuver it, although it did
do considerate damage to the command ship. The Righteousness was able to make it into a
hanger and breach its engine core. Roughly ten percent of the command ship was
damaged from the attack.

During the battle the Righteousness recorded the goings on and sent
them to the homeworlds. The council watched in horror as their fleet was gunned down so
easily. There was no other choice, they had to leave this galaxy. To stay would be certain
death. They sent word to the other races, who were already beginning to formulate
evacuation plans.

They had maybe two weeks before death showed up at their door step.
This home was lost, it was time to leave. Luckily, the colonization ships were still in
working order. They were kept more for floating museums than anything. Within a week all
ships were space worthy and ready to move out. They had about one million ships ready for
deep space transport. Eighty percent of the population was able to squeeze themselves
aboard one of the ships. About four million people were going to be left behind.

There was enough short range and half built or half destroyed ships
left that some of them would be able to at least make a dent in the advancing armada. The
remainder of the population would go into hiding, hoping to escape the Pandonians notice.
The fugitives left orbit ten days after the incident with the Pandonians, they arrived
three days after that.

The reports from the one hundred and fifty or so ships left behind
were horrendous. The fight, if you could call it that, lasted twenty three minutes. They
were able to take out about ten percent of their ships, not a bad showing from near
derelicts, small fighters, and shuttles. If any of the population survived is unknown,
there were enough shelters and bunkers for them spread out among the planets, so hopefully
some did. If the fleet tried to contact the colony it would compromise their locations.
After the last of the fugitive ships were destroyed, a message came through. It was only
two words "No escape".

For the last fifty years the fugitives have been fighting off the
cat and mouse style attacks from the Pandonians. They would launch an offensive, destroy
some of the fugitives ships, then retreat back to the command ship. The fugitives have
lost over half their ships and with them, half the population. Their ships are tired and
mostly held together with tape and glue. It is lucky they are nearing the galaxy of their
birth. Once they can get hold of their long lost cousins they will have a chance of
survival.